It appeared in a cloud of suffocating black smoke and the putrid smell of brimstone. The form it chose was a glistening black snake, enormous in size, tightly coiled within the summoning space, sleek head raised intimidatingly high.

The boy had been preparing for this moment for weeks. Even so, he felt himself shake under the snake's penetrating gaze, his eyes unblinking and staring in both horror and awe.

"Such a young boy, summoning such a storied and feared djinn," the creature hissed, red eyes blazing. "How many years are you? Ten? Twelve?"

The boy steeled himself, trying to remember everything he'd read about this ritual. Djinn lie. They manipulate. When trapped by humans, they try any number of underhanded tricks to ensure their freedom. He couldn't let himself be distracted.

"I'm your new master. My age shouldn't matter." came the boy's stiff reply.

"Oooh," the djinn flicked his tongue out amusedly. "Look at the brave face the child puts on. Tell me, boy, do you have any idea who I am?"

The boy narrowed his eyes only slightly. "Of course I do. You're Sharik the Bloody, one of the most powerful djinn that Solomon ever enslaved."

Sharik drew himself up higher, opening his mouth to expose his terrifying fangs. "And you still thought it wise to summon me? For what purpose, pray tell? Is there a little human girl whom you fancy?" The ifrit scoffed. "Should I make her fall in love with you? Oh, let me guess… The boys in the village are giving you a tough time, and you want me to scare them off, yeah? Please tell me, o master, what a little tiny human like you could possibly want of me."

The boy's lips pressed together firmly. He cleared his throat, making sure to say everything correctly and clearly. "I want you to heal someone for me."

The snake stared at the boy as if he'd gone mad. "Heal someone? Are you being serious?"

"Extremely."

Sharik laughed then, a sound that started off as a soft, demonic chuckle and erupted into a guffaw that might have knocked him over had the summoning circle been roomier. The boy wondered if there was any way short of a miracle that the racket didn't wake the entire village.

"Goodness me… I nearly thought I'd misheard you. You took the time and energy to learn how to summon djinn, learn how to create a moderately impressive summoning circle, and then chose to summon one of the worst ifrits in mankind's history just to heal someone?" He took a breath for air, his laughter still coming out in short huffs. "That's far sillier than anything I could have come up with."

"What's silly about it?" the boy asked defensively. He admonished himself mentally a moment later, realizing that he let the djinn get to him after all.

"You humans have healers and physicians, do you not?" Sharik asked. "Why summon a djinn to do the job?"

"He's beyond mortal help. They've all seen to him, and no one can help him."

"Everyone dies, foolish child. It's better to learn that lesson early on and mourn your kin then think you can play Solomon every time you need a miracle."

"He's not my kin," the boy retorted hotly, "and your opinion doesn't matter. I'm your master, I summoned you, and I control you right now. So if I want something done, you do it."

"Oh-ho?" Sharik hissed snidely. His coils shifted excitedly within his space, his eyes twinkling. "So I was close? Are you trying to win over the love of your young life by saving her father, perhaps? So selfless. So heroic."

The boy reddened and looked away. "He's not…Look, just shut up! Can you do it or can't you?"

Sharik regarded the boy for a long moment before answering. "Tell me something. How did you learn my name?"

"I asked you a question!" the boy said angrily.

"And I will answer your question. Right after you tell me where you learned my name."

The boy frowned and crossed his arms. "I really don't see how it's any of your business. What difference does it make?"

Sharik sighed loudly. "Come now. If you're truly my master, what harm could it possibly do to humor your servant just a little? I'm curious by nature. Knowledge of my name is scarce. You must either be incredibly skilled at finding information or you just got lucky."

There was a pronounced silence as the boy weighed the pros and cons of giving the ifrit information. Regrettably, Sharik had a point. What harm could it do? The creature was confined, and the sooner the mystery was out of the way, the sooner they could move on and discuss the terms of his servitude.

"I found a book." the boy finally said reluctantly.

"You can read?" Sharik asked in surprise. The boy's chest swelled with pride.

"My father taught me. He collects books from traveling vendors whenever he can. He bought a book last year and let me read it. It spoke of Solomon's greatest victories and accomplishments. It mentioned you, and several others."

"Accomplishments," Sharik hissed scornfully. "Did it happen to mention that all of Solomon's accomplishments were made possible by the power of the djinn he branded? Did it speak of all of his heroic victories, won by the djinn he sent out into the fray as he sat back on his throne, counting his gold and making love to countless human women?"

"That's-"

"Did it also mention, o master, that he destroyed many of the djinn in his charge? And those he didn't destroy were ripped to pieces, unable to return to their original form and power?"

"Enough!" the boy shouted, leveling the snake a fierce look. "None of that matters to me! Can you save man's life, or can't you?"

Sharik tilted his head in thought. "I should be able to," he said, "but not without help. You see, I was one of the lucky djinn that escaped Solomon with my life. However, he tore my essence asunder, and because of this, my power is limited."

The boy's expression softened. "Well then… What would you need in order to do it?"

The snake seemed to smile, flickering light from the lantern on the nearby table dancing off of his ebony scales. "Your trust," came Sharik's sultry reply. "I would need you to let me use your body."

"What…? You mean like possession?!" the boy exclaimed. Surely this was a trick. In all the reading he'd done, the topic of possession had only come up once, and it was very clear that it was not a good idea, no matter the reason.

"Not like possession," Sharik said. "Staying in the mortal realm - your world - for any amount of time is damaging to me, you see. I'm in pain as we speak. Since I can't linger here for long without risking death, I need a mortal vessel to latch onto so that I may exist here without fading away. Do you understand? If you let me latch on to your body, I can carry out any number of amazing feats. Then I could easily save this tragically ill person you speak of. Doesn't that sound like a good deal?"

It sounded like a trick. No, it had to be a trick. Even if Sharik was telling the truth, this didn't sound like something that would end even remotely well. On the other hand, if Sharik was indeed telling the truth, then all of this would have been for nothing. All of the other djinn named in the book had already been tried. He hadn't wanted to summon the strongest, fiercest djinn of the bunch in the first place, as it seemed particularly dangerous for his first summoning attempt, but the others simply didn't respond when he'd summoned. Judging by what Sharik had just told him, he assumed now that they were all long dead, destroyed by Solomon.

"No," the boy said decidedly. "You're going to have to figure out something else. I'm not giving you permission to do anything like that."

The eyes of the snake were unblinking, his form unnaturally still. He could swear the room had just become colder, and the lantern on the table flickered wildly.

"I see," Sharik said calmly. "Well, o master, do you mind telling me one last thing? Where is this book? I'm dreadfully curious as to where you are keeping it."

The boy betrayed himself by letting his anxious gaze flick to the table, where the book sat atop a small pile of newer, better preserved tomes that hadn't seen quite as many years. The look on Sharik's face marked his confirmation, and the boy could have kicked himself if it wouldn't risk him falling out of the protective circle. Instead, he nervously fondled the charm on the bracelet circled around his wrist.

"Mm. I have a bit of advice for you, my master. When summoning a djinn of indeterminable power, making sure all of your calculations are correct before doing so is an absolute necessity. If even the tiniest rune or line was misplaced, the djinn you summon could kill you in less time than it would take you to speak its name."

"I - I know that!" the boy exclaimed, flustered. "I don't need you to tell me! My circle is perfect!"

He was just trying to scare him. This is what djinn do. They lie, they bluff, and they play on the insecurities and fears of humans. This djinn was clever, but it was nothing the boy couldn't handle. He was confident in the lines he'd drawn, he'd checked them over more times than he could count. He'd read everything he could find about summoning and controlling djinn, even when he'd had to hide those taboo books from his parents under a loose board beneath his bed.

"It is well-done, boy, I'll give you that." Sharik said, glossy head swaying, forked tongue wagging. "Not many your age have accomplished as much. But I'm not commenting on the quality of your lines. In being precise, you must also leave no margin for error."

Despite what the boy told himself, there was something akin to excitement hidden in Sharik's words that unnerved him. Sharik was staring at a fixed spot behind him, his shrewd gaze unwavering and deliberately leading; the boy reluctantly followed his eyes, feeling a growing dread as the seconds ticked on. His eyes widened, his heart pounded in his ears, and his lips parted but no sound came out.

There was a mouse.

The boy had no qualms with mice - or rats for that matter - but this particular mouse was sitting on the outermost line of the protective circle, it's small furry body streaked with chalk, its small paws holding a piece of food it had undoubtedly nabbed from the kitchen. The boy was positive that his blood had turned to ice, and every last strand of hair on the back of his head stood rigid with terror.

When he turned back around, he let out a panicked yelp. The snake's face was inches away from his own, red eyes boring into his, a cold tongue flicking out and brushing over his nose.

"I should thank you," Sharik's voice was a low rumble, sweet and terrible, his massive ebony form looming over the shaking fool of a boy. Their proximity was so close the boy could feel the cold emanating from the terrifying corporeal body of the snake, freezing him over with the terrible realization that death was near, so incredibly near. "Being summoned is more trouble than it's worth, but you did me the kindness of summoning me to the last known earthly mention of my name. I can ensure that you are the very last human to ever call on me. So sorry that your intentions were so pure in nature... It's really a shame."

The snake lunged and the boy fell backwards with a shout, hitting the table and sending the books flying. The lantern overturned and rolled off the table, shattering into a pile of glass, oil and fire. The flame quickly spread to the antique carpet rolled against the door, filling the room with smoke in no time at all.

The boy frantically scrambled backwards, his shoulders colliding with the wall behind him. Sharik was surveying the growing fire, intrigued, fire light dancing on his scales. "Nothing cleanses quite like fire," he sighed contentedly, his gaze methodically turning to regard the petrified boy quaking in the corner. "You know… I think I have just enough strength to help this fire grow a little more."

Tears sliding down his cheeks, the boy choked back a sob, his hand finding the good luck charm on his bracelet that Rim had given him and grasping it for all he was worth.

.

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.

"Wait up!" Ghazi rang, her feet planted firmly in sand, her hands anchored on her knees. "Can't we take a break for a bit?"

Aini shielded his eyes from the sun and glanced back at her, smiling reproachfully. "We're almost to the village, can you push on for just a little while longer?" Ghazi let out an exaggerated sigh of fatigue in reply. "Why not ride Fatima until we get there?"

Ghazi tightened her grip on her horse's head harness and stroked the animal's warm nose. "She's just as tired as I am! We've been out of oats for ages!"

Aini chuckled. "It's been a few hours. We'll buy more at the village." He looked around, searching for the shimmering dark shapes in the distance that marked their next destination. They looked closer than he was expecting. "Excuse me, Miss Maha? When can we expect to make it there?"

A beautiful woman with chestnut hair and a busty figure clad in revealing harem clothing materialized just in front of the company, her arms crossed. She yawned hugely.

"Within the hour, I think. Just keep up the pace!" she said, in a tone that was meant to convey encouragement but just ended up sounding mildly condescending. Ghazi flashed the jann an icy look.

"I'm still not used to all this, you know!" she said defensively. "My stamina isn't exactly suitable for these conditions!"

"You've been doing wonderfully so far," Aini pointed out seriously, hoping he wasn't fanning the fire with unintentional pandering.

"Well, I'm no where near Hafa's level. He always looks like the desert doesn't bother him at all, even on the hottest days." Ghazi pointed out with a wistful sigh. Aini slowed his pace to match Ghazi's a bit more closely.

"That's because Haru was trapped in the desert for years!" he whispered pointedly. "He's gotten numb to it by now!"

"It's not a difficult thing to get used to," Hafa called back to his two companions, unsure as to why they continually forgot that whispering several feet away from him did little good. He was thirsty, not deaf. "It's all a matter of knowing exactly where to step."

Aini immediately reddened in embarrassment. "S-sorry, Haru, I didn't mean-"

"Where to step?" Ghazi inquired, cutting off Aini's rushed apology, "You mean there's a trick to it?"

A drifting breeze picked up and ruffled Hafa's keffiyeh and scarf, dusting his nose with sand. His camel prodded him in the shoulder with an urgent snort, something he usually did when he sensed water was nearby. Hafa's eyes flicked up and fixed on the horizon, noting the previously undefined shapes that were beginning to turn into houses, modest buildings and a shining sliver of ocean running along the west perimeter of the village. From here, the settlement looked meager, but large enough to house plenty of traders and merchants to meet their needs. They didn't need much, anyway: feed for the animals, a bit of food for themselves and a place to rest their head for the night that wasn't a dusty, uncomfortable tent. Hafa didn't particularly dislike the tents, in fact, they rather reminded him of Makarim when the wind beat against the thin walls, and the reminiscence helped him sleep with comfort. Ghazi was unaccustomed to the rough-and-tumble lifestyle, however, and so Hafa felt almost honor-bound to provide her with more comfortable sleeping conditions whenever possible.

They had been searching for Rim for five months. To Hafa, it felt like a staggering amount of time. He'd never placed much faith in time or the agonizingly systematic manner in which it carried itself, but he found it impossible to disregard since becoming entirely mortal. He was reminded of its overbearing presence every time he nicked himself or felt his stomach rumble with hunger. And now, the thought of Rim being out there stranded on the sands alone and cursed pounded a nail of guilt into his heart every passing minute, the accumulated time acting as the mallet. Every time he would catch himself losing hope, Ghazi and Aini's unwavering faith would bring him back from the looming darkness and he would push on.

He missed Makarim terribly. They had returned to the city only once since their initial departure, to reunite with their friends and give them an update on their progress. (Or lack thereof.) They had also hoped to hear word of Siraj al Din's whereabouts, but he was still unaccounted for.

The situation hadn't allowed for much private time with Makarim, but that was expected. For fear of wanting to delay any longer, they hadn't lingered long, leaving after only one night and part of a day. Hafa didn't feel right being content for even a moment while Rim was still lost to the sands.

"When you step, don't let yourself sink into the sand. Feel it in your feet and shift your weight when you walk so that you are forming your own footsteps." Hafa explained coolly. Ghazi looked down, took a careful step, and frowned.

"I don't think I understand." she said.

"Feel the sand under your feet-"

"That's exactly what I don't understand!" Ghazi cut in sharply. Miss Maha giggled.

Aini swallowed a generous gulp of water from his flask and resumed his earlier pace. "We'll be there soon, so I wouldn't worry too much about- Ghazi? What is it?"

When they looked back Ghazi was stopped, her gaze fixed somewhere distant, her brows drawn in concern. Hafa and Aini followed her eyes and squinted at the large form that loomed in the distance, far south of the village. It was hard to make out as anything more than a shape from where they stood, but Hafa thought he could see towers and a domed ceiling. The desert heat was making it difficult to focus on anything significant.

"What is that?" Aini asked, standing on tip-toes and shielding his eyes with both hands.

Ghazi was still staring, her pink mouth forming a small 'o' of intrigue. "It looks like a palace." she said.

Hafa silently agreed. He glanced up at Maha, who was floating just above them, also staring at the far-off structure. "Do you know what that is?"

The jann shrugged her shoulders. "It does look like a palace, but it doesn't look familiar." she said. "Whatever it is, it looks abandoned. I try and stay away from ruins whenever possible… Too many ghuls running around."

"Ghuls?" Aini chimed curiously.

"Dirty djinn who enjoy spending their time in abandoned areas and graveyards." Maha explained with a shiver. "They've never been fond of jann, and I suppose we've never been fond of them. Strictly speaking, we don't much care for one another."

"Ghazi," Hafa prompted, gaining Ghazi's wide-eyed attention, "should we go there tomorrow?"

A light breeze blew strands of maroon hair over Ghazi's face as she nodded. "I'd like to. Seems mysterious, doesn't it?"

Hafa looked back toward the palace. The longer he looked, the more uneasy he felt. His instincts were telling him that investigating it was a poor choice, but the possibility of finding Rim there made him ignore the growing feeling of dread that was clawing at his insides.

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They arrived at their destination just as the sun was drawing nearer to the western sky, painting the sky orange and red. Up close, the village was much more ramshackle than they had previously assumed, and oddly quiet despite it being the normal time for merchants to be selling the last of their goods for the day. The modest buildings and homes were stacked tightly together and were connected by narrow stairways and public clotheslines, and together the various property formed much of the outer wall of the village. A stream of water cradled the east side of town, and Hafa's attention was unavoidably diverted as soon as the sparkling water came within view.

The only person to be seen outside of town was a young woman, crouched by the edge of the water using a wooden laundry bat to tediously reach for something in the water. As yet it didn't seem like she had noticed them, and so Ghazi tentatively stepped forward, wearing a polite smile.

"Hello there, sorry to interrupt," she began, and the girl jumped, a surprised yelp tumbling from her lips. She turned toward the company with wide, guilty eyes. Ghazi immediately raised her hands apologetically. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you-"

"It isn't my fault!" the girl exclaimed, standing and letting the laundry bat fall to the ground. "There was a strong wind, it took my hijab right off and it landed in the water… I've been trying to get it back, so…!"

Aini raised a calming hand. "Slow down! We don't mean you any harm, we're just a small group of travelers who were hoping we could stay a night in the village." The girl fell confusedly silent, and so Aini carefully continued. "You live here, right?"

The girl nodded. Her eyes were fixed to the ground, her hands nervously stroking the exposed dark hair that was thrown over her shoulder. "Yes… But… You won't tell anyone, then?"

"Tell anyone what?" Ghazi asked gently.

The girl reddened. "That you saw me without my hijab?" her voice was hushed and scandalous.

Ghazi and Aini exchanged a look. "Is that important?" Aini finally asked, confused.

The look of worry on the girl's face was instantly replaced with one of incredulity. "Well… Yes. Is it not important where you come from?"

The two fell awkwardly silent. It wasn't an easy thing to offhandedly mention that you had spent the last few years in a cursed palace where all of the rules and laws were created by a possessed Prince who didn't seem particularly interested in gender-based regulations. Their first experience in a neighboring kingdom more than three months back had been a harrowing one. They had nearly been attacked when Ghazi entered along with them without her hood up; it had taken Aini quite a while to talk the townsfolk out of rioting.

"We're not really from around here…" Ghazi said finally, looking to Aini for help.

"You need that or else you'll be in trouble, right?" he asked her. The girl nodded.

"It's forbidden for us to be without it. I was hoping to get it back before nightfall, but at this rate…" she wrung her hands, looking anxiously back at the water.

Hafa's eyes followed hers. Her white hijab was currently stuck on a rock some ways out, the mild current threatening to pull it away at any moment. Without hesitation, Hafa began to unravel his scarf and tossed his keffiyeh aside, approaching the water. The girl watched him with large eyes.

"What is he…?"

"Just be careful, Hafa!" Ghazi needlessly warned. She and Aini had seen Hafa do this so many times that it was no longer a surprise when he began to discard his clothing at the sight of water, nor was it unusual to have to wait for an hour at a time for him to be finished swimming. Ghazi turned back to the girl with a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine. He loves the water."

After stripping down to his undergarments, Hafa dove into the stream. He was immediately overcome with the familiar feeling of euphoria that usually accompanied the rejuvenating chill of water against his skin, and nearly lost himself in the sensation before remembering that he had an actual goal beyond his personal desire to feel the water today.

He surfaced just next to the cluster of rocks on which the white garment was snagged and carefully pulled it free. With the hijab in hand Hafa swam back to the water's edge, hoisting himself out. Ignoring how flustered the girl appeared to be handed something by a half-naked dripping wet stranger, Hafa held the hijab at arms length, his expression stony. She took it, looking at its sorry state.

"Thank you… You really didn't have to do that for me… I really can't thank you enough." she said, making furtive eye-contact before dropping her gaze to the ground. Hafa nodded, turned, and headed back to the water, sitting on the bank and letting his legs dangle in the river. She watched him go, and then diverted her attention back to Ghazi and Aini. "My name is Akilah, by the way."

Aini smiled. "Aini, and this is Ghazwa. The one over there is called Haru."

"Now that you have your hijab, everything will be alright, won't it?" Ghazi asked curiously. Akilah smiled sadly.

"It's still wet, so I'll have to wait for it to dry off. As long as no one finds me before then, it should be safe to go back."

Hafa watched the surface of the water, half-listening to the conversation. When he had been in his other form, he had observed plenty of human behavior, but no matter where he traveled, it was a man's world. From a djinn's point of view, it was all very queer. Gender meant little to djinn; both genders were equally fearsome, and their forms changed so often that it mattered little what reproductive organs they may or may not have. He hadn't even realized until Makarim pointed it out to him several months ago that two men falling in love was considered unnatural.

"We'll wait with you while it dries," Ghazi suggested kindly. "We actually had some questions about the area, if you don't mind us asking."

"Of course not," Akilah said, wringing out her hijab.

Aini pointed in the direction of the distant structure that was now just a hazy shadow on the horizon, veiled by the setting sun. "Do you know anything about that area? We passed it by earlier and it looked like it could be a temple or palace of some kind."

Akilah didn't need to look to know where Aini was indicating. Her expression became grave.

"It's an ancient palace, as far as we can tell. Legends say there's no way inside, and that Solomon was the only one to be granted entrance. The locals believe it's cursed."

Three sets of eyes were staring at Akilah with renewed interest. The mention of a curse was both unwelcome and highly tantalizing. None of them were sure if Rim would have stumbled upon such a place, but places steeped in magick were bound to give them more clues than the places they'd already searched.

"Why do they think it's cursed?" Hafa asked, standing up. Akilah seemed momentarily surprised that he had spoken.

"Every man who has ever been sent up there was never seen again. Most believe it's the work of djinn, and some think that the Goddess of Fate and Death dwells there." she said. The white camel behind them huffed and stomped.

"What do you believe?" Ghazi asked curiously.

"Me?" Akilah stared at her dripping wet hijab in thought. "Well, I'm not really sure. I've never even been near it. But some nights, a strange melancholy falls over the village, and it feels as if it's coming from the south, from that place. I can't explain it. On those night, no one leaves their homes, and everyone locks their doors."

"I'm assuming it's abandoned, then." Aini inquired. Akilah nodded.

"I would think so. No one's ever seen a person wandering the area, and we don't get any frequent visitors in the village." She leveled them a concerned look. "You're not planning on going up there, are you?"

Ghazi laughed, perhaps a bit too quickly. "No, we were only curious. Like I said, we aren't from around here."

"Ah."

"One more thing," Hafa had replaced almost all of his clothing and was rummaging around in one of the bags strapped to his camel. He retrieved a yellowed page of parchment and held it gingerly in his hands. He handed it to Akilah, and she confusedly took the paper, staring at the detailed charcoal rendering of a man's bust. "Have you seen this man in the last few months?"

Akilah stared at the drawing, eyes set and determined. Finally, her face relaxed and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, no. Did you draw this?"

Hafa nodded. Akilah regarded the drawing again. "You're amazingly talented. He looks so real. Is it a friend of yours?" Hafa looked away and nodded again.

"He's my brother." Ghazi said with a smile.

"You should ask around the village. It's possible he's been by here and I simply didn't see him." Akilah said apologetically. Her eyes widened in abrupt realization. "Actually… If it helps, there was a man here several weeks ago who was asking if we'd seen a man with a similar description. A friend of yours? Family, maybe?"

Ghazi and Aini gasped simultaneously and lurched forward, nearly making Akilah drop the drawing.

"Was he a tall man?"

"Orange hair? Yellow eyes?"

Akilah carefully handed the parchment back to Hafa before answering. "He was tall, I remember that clearly. His hair was black from what I could tell, but I only saw him from the back so I'm not sure what his face looked like. He was dressed in black and grey robes and he had a large staff with him."

Their shared disappointment was short-lived. It didn't sound like Siraj al Din, but then who was it? There was some mysterious stranger asking about Rim's whereabouts. It could have been a coincidence, but Hafa had a strong hunch that it wasn't.

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.

It was dark by the time Akilah's hijab was dry enough to wear.

The four of them entered the village almost entirely unnoticed and quickly found a stable to leave their animals. As was the ritual, Ghazi wore Hafa's keffiyeh inside. They had never bothered to procure a proper veil for her - disguising her as a boy tended to raise less questions and help transactions move a lot more quickly. Maha had decidedly stayed just outside, promising Hafa she would return to them once they got settled in somewhere in town.

Akilah pointed them in the direction of a kindly man who was well-known for giving travelers a place to rest for the night for a small fee; they thanked her and bid her goodnight. Since the town merchants had closed up shop for the night and a caravan was expected to arrive in the early morning, the three of them decided to turn in early.

As Hafa lay curled up under the blankets generously provided for him, he couldn't stop thinking about the palace, or the tall man who had been asking about Rim. If they went to the palace, what would they find there? Akilah told them that Solomon had been the only one to find the entrance… Could it have been because of the ring? He balled his hand into a fist and pressed it to his chest. The cool metal circled around his middle finger burned against his skin. If that was the case, they had a better chance than most to investigate the area. But what about the strange man?

A fawn-colored field mouse scampered into Hafa's bedding, choosing to curl up just next to his chin. Hafa pulled the blankets over his face.

"I have a favor I want to ask you." Hafa said quietly. The field mouse re-adjusted, stuffing its face between its front paws.

"Mm?"

"In the morning, do you think you could go ahead and check the palace for us? I'd like an idea of what to expect before we head that way."

The mouse yawned hugely. "Sure. I'm not going to get too close, though. Any place associated with Solomon is a place I'd prefer to stay away from."

Hafa stroked the mouse's fur gently with his finger three times - something Maha swore up and down she did not like despite the fact that she did - and then let his eyes fall closed. He was worrying too much. He missed the days when he didn't worry about anything, or more accurately, when there was nothing to worry about. He felt like that was lifetimes away, and perhaps it was.

As always, his final thoughts before he slipped into sleep were of Makarim.

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"Shoulders back, Ru'a! Plant your front foot firmly before the lunge!"

Reem's voice was always more commanding when he was instructing. He was practically incapable of being intimidating with the children even at his most fearsome, but that was never his intention. Old habits were hard to break, even in the dusty back room of Makarim's shop.

Ru'a squared her shoulders and thinned her mouth in determination. She leaned her weight onto her right foot, braced her arms and lowered the wooden sword before the lunge. She shot forward, mindful of what her feet were doing. Too mindful. Reem swatted her sword away with his, knocking her off balance. He easily caught her, her face turning up to regard him with excitable laughter.

Najiya was watching the sparring from his seat on a nearby table, swinging his legs, holding parchment in his left hand. "That was soooo good, Ru'a!" he chimed proudly with a bright smile.

"What's that called, again?" Ru'a asked Reem as she righted herself.

"A counter," Reem said with a smile. "Footing is everything. If someone were to counter your attack, you have to learn how to use their own force against them."

Ru'a nodded, eyes sparkling with determination. "Okay, let's go again!"

"Wait just a moment," Reem said, turning to Rani, who was standing at the back of the room clutching his wooden sword as if it were a newborn. "Rani? Did you want a turn?"

Rani nearly started. He shook his head resolutely. "N-no, if Ru'a wants another turn, she can go."

Ru'a shot her brother a scornful look. "You said that if I learned how to fight, you'd learn with me!" she accused. He frowned in reply, turning away from her stare pointedly.

"If you like it so much, do it by yourself!" he said. Reem cleared his throat.

"Rani, if you don't want to learn, no one is going to force you. You were doing very good the other day, so I assumed you thought it was fun." he said gently. Rani's expression softened.

"It's kind of fun, but it's kind of scary, too." he said in a small voice.

"Reem wouldn't really hurt us, Rani," Ru'a said admonishingly, and he shot her a glare.

"I know that!" he countered. "It isn't that…"

An awkward silence fell over the room, finally broken by an impatient huff from Ru'a. Najiya smiled, leaning back on the table. "It's scary to think about, right? What you're really learning to do?"

Rani didn't answer. Ru'a huffed again. Reem smiled. "It's only self-defense, Rani. No one is expecting you to arm yourself and go out into the world expecting a fight. It's a respectable practice in its own right, and sword-fighting can be a very beautiful art form."

The boy looked up curiously. "Beautiful?"

"Mm," Reem nodded. "It's very similar in nature to dancing, if you want to think of it that way."

An enthusiastic gasp of agreement erupted from the table, and Najiya threw his good arm in the air. "You're right! I never thought of it that way before!"

Rani reddened. "Like dancing?"

"Yes. Exactly like dancing."

"Enough talking!" Ru'a announced, brandishing her wooden sword triumphantly in the air. "Let's go again!"

"Alright, alright," Reem laughed, getting into position. The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the steps distracted them, and all eyes moved to the staircase as Makarim entered, a box hoisted on his shoulder.

"You're all down here?" he observed with a chuckle, setting the box down carefully.

"Big brother!" Ru'a squeaked happily, jumping in place and swinging her sword. "Watch me! Reem is teaching me how to avoid a counter!"

"Is he?" Makarim asked with a smile, finding a comfortable spot to stand next to Najiya, well out of their way.

Both contenders found their positions, Ru'a remembering to straighten her shoulders this time. The little girl lunged. Reem countered her, but she managed to shift her weight onto her other foot and stick her sword just under Reem's right armpit. Najiya began clapping joyously.

"I did it!" Ru'a squealed, throwing her arms around Reem's waist. "That was good, wasn't it?"

"Incredibly!" Reem replied.

Ru'a peeked around Reem to regard her big brother. "Did you see? Wasn't I good?"

Makarim approached the two of them, placing one hand on Reem's back and the other on Ru'a's head. "That was very good. Though, I still feel nervous, seeing you learn something so violent."

Reem flourished his hand dismissively. "It's nothing to do with violence! I feel it's important to teach the basics of self-defense, especially after everything we've been through."

"That's true, but…"

"It's a lot like dancing!" Rani piped up, still holding his sword uncertainly. "I'm going to get good at it, too!"

"You mean it this time? You won't chicken out?" Ru'a challenged snidely.

"I won't!" Rani proclaimed.

Makarim laughed. "Alright, that's enough for today, don't you think? Could I have you two go up and watch the shop for a bit? It's been slow today, but I still don't think it's a good idea to leave the front unmanned for too long."

Both eager to please their brother, the twins carefully put their wooden practice swords away and scrambled up the stairs. Makarim watched them go with a fond smile.

"Ru'a really likes learning this stuff, doesn't she?" he asked.

Reem smiled, setting his wooden sword against the table. "I can't say the same for Rani. Some days he's enthusiastic to learn, but as soon as we try to practice, he shuts down."

"He's a gentler soul than Ru'a. He just needs some time." Makarim offered. Reem looked down, brows drawn in thought.

"I don't want to push him into doing anything he's uncomfortable with. I suggested this initially because I thought it would be important for them to learn to defend themselves. After everything that happened several months ago… Well, it would make me feel better knowing that they knew how to protect themselves if something were to happen." Immediately Reem felt as though he had said something wrong, and with an attentive jerk he tried to redeem himself. "Not that anything would happen, only if… ..." He paused, abandoning that thought and all others like it. "And of course, if you don't want me to teach them anymore, I'll stop immediately. I really have their best interests in mind, but I'm not their brother, so-"

"Reem, breathe," Makarim said kindly. He pressed a hand to Reem's arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "It's not that I disapprove of you teaching them self-defense. I think it's good for them, and Ru'a loves it. It just pains me that we live in the sort of world where children would have to learn to defend themselves at all."

Najiya watched the men closely, and as a melancholy silence reigned over them, he sought to break it with a bright smile. "What are we all getting so worried for? Everything's been great lately, hasn't it? That new trade route opened up in Mecca, and it's been giving us a lot more business. The city has gotten back on its feet and everyone is really happy! It's a time to feel good about stuff!"

Makarim forced a smile. "I guess you're right. Maybe we're all still so wrapped up in the past that it's hard to see all of the positives."

"That's the spirit!" Najiya chirped.

"Najiya," Makarim started, regarding the parchment he was clutching in his good hand, "are you doing inventory?"

"Yeah," Najiya replied, quirking a brow. "Why?"

"Why?" Makarim echoed, laughing. "I told you, you didn't have to worry about that anymore! You two have your own business now, I can't expect you to still take the time-"

"Mako, it's fine," Najiya sighed with an added eye-roll. "I can do this much, at least! Besides, Reem is pretty particular with how the books are kept at our shop, and he doesn't like me messing around with them too much-"

"There's a specific order! You don't always follow the order!" Reem pointed out hotly.

"Don't be such a nitpicker!" Najiya pouted.

Reem sighed. "At any rate, we closed up shop early today. We've run short on stock. There's a caravan coming through here in the next couple of days and I'm hoping to see what they have that we might want to trade for."

Najiya snickered. "What will Haru think when he comes back and sees that we have a jewelry shop now?" he said wonderingly.

Reem chuckled. "I don't suppose he'll care too much, but he might be surprised."

Makarim's lips pulled into something of a smile, damaged around the edges but not entirely without joy. Reem and Najiya noticed his demeanor dissolve immediately and felt guilt wash over them. Talking about Haru was difficult. It wasn't as if he was gone from them forever, but he wasn't here. While Reem and Najiya got the comfort of enjoying each other's company every single day, Makarim had only seen Haru once since he'd left, and there was no way of knowing when Rim would ever be found. They had been together so briefly and yet it seemed so jarring for them to be apart. It was obvious every day how much worry and loneliness Makarim was carrying.

With a grunt, Makarim hoisted the box back onto his shoulder. "If you two closed up shop early, why not take it easy for the rest of the afternoon?" Makarim suggested with a smile. "I certainly won't stop you if you want to hang around here and help out, but there really isn't that much to be done… You should go spend some time alone together. It isn't often you get the house to yourself without the twins, right?"

As tempting as the proposal was and as red as Reem's face had just become, Najiya hopped off of the table, inventory parchment in hand. "I don't mind sticking around at least until the inventory's all done. Right, Reem?"

"Hmm? Ah, y-yes," Reem answered, still trying to tame his mortification.

"If you insist," Makarim laughed, rolling his shoulder for a more secure grip and then heading into the next room, a smaller, darker storage closet under the stairs. Reem and Najiya watched him go.

"You shouldn't have mentioned Haru," Reem whispered reproachfully.

"I knooow," Najiya whined guiltily. He pressed a quick kiss to Reem's mouth before hurriedly following after Makarim, disappearing through the narrow doorway under the stairs.

The small room always smelled strongly of clay dust purely because it was so poorly ventilated. With nowhere to escape the dust caked the floor and shelves, stirred only if something was moved or set down, spiraling into the air in a suffocating cloud that would settle again somewhere nearby. Presently the smell of freshly disturbed dust was filling Najiya's nose as he entered the room, and he tried and failed to stifle a violent sneeze.

"Sorry," Najiya offered weakly, rubbing his nose. Makarim was making room for the box on a low shelf.

"You never really get used to it," Makarim said with a laugh. He looked over his shoulder at Najiya, brows raised. "Did you need something, Najiya?"

"Ahh," Najiya rubbed his arm, realizing he hadn't formed any sort of dialogue before going after Makarim in the first place. "Kind of…"

"Is it your arm?" Makarim asked in alarm, face suddenly twisted in concern. "Are you having pains in it again?"

"Wh- No! No, the arm's fine… Look!" Najiya raised his arm and bent the elbow several times as proof. "It's feeling a lot better. I came in here to ask if you were alright."

Makarim's mouth opened in apparent surprise, but for a long moment, he said nothing. Finally, he smiled, a smile as warm as is it was dismissing. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't say that I'm not missing him, but I know he'll be back. It'll just be a little lonely until then."

"I know, but…" Najiya nibbled on his bottom lip. "I hate to see you so- Mako?"

Makarim suddenly teetered and grabbed one of the shelves to catch his balance, knocking off a small vase that Najiya was quick enough to catch before it hit the floor. Najiya hastily set the vase aside.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?"

Raising a trembling hand to his head, Makarim swept some hair away from his face. "I'm fine. I felt a little faint all of a sudden."

"Do you have a fever? You should lay down right away and rest!" Najiya exclaimed worriedly.

"There's no need for that," Makarim assured, taking his weight off the shelf. "It was just a dizzy spell. Besides, I have a package to pick up-"

"I'll go and get if for you!" Najiya said urgently.

"No, you won't," Makarim replied sternly. "I'm fine. I'll rest for a minute, drink some water, and then I'll be off." Noting Najiya's crestfallen expression, Makarim smiled. "Thank you for worrying, but really, I'm alright."

.

.

.

The sun was to blame. It was so incredibly hot today, Makarim had never been more thankful that water had returned to the kingdom.

He hadn't meant to worry Najiya. He had wanted to steal himself away in the storage closet because he'd felt it creeping up on him, that nauseating sensation that spread into his back and chest and sometimes made it hard to breathe. The attacks were always so fleeting that he usually had no problem riding through them without being noticed. Makarim was sure that these instances were nothing to worry about. He was working harder than usual. He had to distract himself somehow or he would go mad with worry, and working in the shop was keeping him plenty busy now that there was a slew of new customers to appeal to. He'd been working the kiln twice as hard over the last couple of months, which no doubt led these strange spells. He tried not to think too hard on it.

It had also been scorching summer, and since today was particularly hot, Makarim was convinced that the heat was the culprit. He'd spent a good portion of the afternoon unloading boxes behind the shop without taking a proper break - he was bound to suffer some kind of negative after-effects.

Was Haru staying cool somewhere? Hopefully they weren't all lumbering around in the middle of the sands in this heat. Knowing Haru, he would have found a place near a clear, cool water source and camped out there until the heat-wave was over.

Makarim was so consumed in his thoughts that he nearly passed up the small fabric shop he had been heading towards. The keeper greeted him warmly with a smile and a small parcel of high-quality dyes that Makarim enthusiastically paid for. He thanked the old man and headed for home, the idea of taking a rest sounding better and better the longer the unforgiving sun beat down on him.

Out of habit, Makarim passed by the giant mound of sand that was once Rim's palace. He made a point to look at it whenever possible, to help remind him that it really had been there, and all of that really did happen. Today as he looked up at the pile, he saw something unusual.

Men he didn't recognize surrounded Rim's throne, the only piece of the palace that hadn't crumbled away with the rest of the structure. Their robes were thick and dark, ill-suited for the heat, and their faces were red and sweaty as proof. They looked to be speaking avidly to one another, some of them inspecting the chair closely, some of them seeming deep in thought.

It wasn't unusual for people to take a gander at the throne from time to time; it had quickly become the town mystery, the unknown relic that sat among an unclaimed pile of sand and earth, but Makarim had never seen these men in town before, or their heavy robes.

Feeling unnerved, Makarim hurried along, leaving the unfamiliar congregation far behind him.

.

.

Author's Note:

heeeeey guuuuysssss. ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Finally I can get working on this! It was so much fun to revisit this world and start writing about this again. I missed it! It's hard to remember NagisaNajiya MakotoMakarim etc, after writing other non-arabic things for a few months, though. I'll get back into the swing of things pretty quick.

Sorry if this chapter was a tad uneventful? I'm setting up a tremendous amount of things, so... Yeah. A lot's going to happen really rapidly. Also: Zaki-chan! I really wanted to include her in the first one, but there wasn't any room for her. She was one of my favorite characters in High Speed!, she really doesn't get enough love!

Anyway it's great to be back writing Palace! I still need to write the last chapter of Erotomania, (I was hoping to have it done by the time I started this one,) but I was just too impatient after Eternal Summer ended and I really wanted to get a chapter of this out. I hope you guys like it, and thanks for supporting me this whole time!